


Complacency

by DEx Hooker (FangBanger)



Series: Summer Challenge [10]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangBanger/pseuds/DEx%20Hooker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could gripe all he wanted to about technology and modern comforts, but even the great Captain Hook can't resist temptation when it's offered on a barely clothed platter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complacency

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Complacency  
> Series: Summer Challenge  
> Day: 10  
> Author: Roguie  
> Fandom: Once Upon A Time  
> Pairing: Hook/Emma  
> Rating: M – sexually explicit  
> Words: 1600+  
> Summary: He could gripe all he wanted to about technology and modern comforts, but even the great Captain Hook can't resist temptation when it's offered on a barely clothed platter.  
> Disclaimer: OuaT is definitely not mine. Not on HBO. No pirate tushie on Sunday nights. No sex against the mast of the Jolly Roger. :( Since it's a family program and I'm not being paid for what I do with it, I can safely say, not it.
> 
> A/N: Well, still a bit late but at least I'm two hours earlier than yesterday. Cold is a wee bit better, work is still hellish but hey, only three more 12 hour days before I see a day off this week. Yay.... Hit me up with what y'all want to see for tomorrow's story. Maybe I can get it done at work instead of waiting till the wee hours of the morning tomorrow. ;) 
> 
> Fluff, smut or angst... you tell me!

~~~?~~~

 

There wasn't much he could say about the modern “comforts” her world offered him. He wasn't a great fan of the automobile. The clothing had absolutely no imagination. He truly hated the annoyance of cellular phones. He considered that computers and the internet may in fact be the embodiment of all evil known to man, and what passed for music was complete rubbish.

He'd scowled when she'd sent him the text message to meet her at a warehouse just down from the docks. He should have known she had something up her sleeve that morning when she insisted he leave for the station dressed in his new modern clothing. He'd grumbled quietly but stuffed himself into the denim death trap she left out on the bed, apparently unconcerned with his ability to manoeuvre zippers and buttons with only one hand. She'd left a dark green form fitting shirt for him as well, a good size too small for him he believed, as it clung to his every muscle and left nought to the imagination. He didn't mind the pair of black boots she'd left for him, the military cut the only part of the entire get up he could tolerate.

Still, he'd done as he'd been asked, the smile that softened her features the moment she saw him enough of a reward that he would make due for a day. The sweet, soft kisses that followed before she'd run out the door were icing on an already sugary cake. 

It was dark by the time he arrived at the warehouse, the heavy beat of modern music leading him easily to the proper establishment. Once inside the music grew to near painful levels; he could feel the bass in his teeth as his entire body vibrated in time with the dark rhythm. He couldn't stop the scowl from marring his features as he strode deeper into the building, deep lines building between his eyes as he scanned the crowd of writhing bodies that filled the dance floor, all of which seemed to be doing their best impression of Pan's lost ones as they celebrated their debauchery.

He missed the adventure filled music he'd grown up with. He longed for the dances where one seduced their partner with light touches and grace. He ached for full skirts and corsets that tantalized him with tiny glimpses of flesh as they moved with their wearer. This realm rejoiced in the freedom to shock and sin, and while the pirate in him could see the merits, the officer in him could only mourn for what had been lost.

The faces in the crowd were both strange and familiar; people he'd seen around town, seen in the other realm, in some instances he'd seen them in another time. Not one face truly stood out from another under the heavy beat and the harsh lights, not until his eyes settled on her. She danced with the wolf waitress and a young princess he'd seen a time or two, tumblers filled with amber liquid held high over their heads, sweat making her pale skin shine, a smile on her face the likes he'd never seen. 

She was wearing a shirt he'd never laid eyes on, the sheer material clinging to her chest like a second skin, the black bra she wore beneath clearly visible and not by accident. He managed to drag his eyes away from her chest long enough to lose all coherent thought at the sight of her long legs, and the absolute lack of anything that covered them. Her skirt, if one could call the small scrap of fabric a skirt, covered nothing more than her arse and if she bent forward far enough it would not even cover that much. The boots she had on came up to her knees, the soft leather molded tightly to her calves, displaying every muscle as her body moved gracefully to the indelicate rhythm offered.

It took every bit of strength he had to ignore the rise of his flesh as he watched her dance, his mouth bone dry, his heart dancing a rhythm of its own as he approached slowly from behind. The wolf's eyes lighted upon him, a knowing grin spreading across her ruby lips, her white teeth flashing in the darkness as she stepped back from her blonde companion and spun herself into the arms of a random stranger that danced nearby.

Emma's steps didn't falter as Ruby moved away, the slow, sensual movements of her body a siren's call to Killian's soul. He was in place behind her before she had the chance to turn, his fingers splayed out across her stomach, pulling her to him, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, his aching need immediately finding home against her ass. She'd have startled against his presence if his hook hadn't found it's way to her thigh, the familiar metal pressed hard and cold under her skirt, her own movements brushing it against her thinly covered core. 

His lips pressed against her neck, teeth finding flesh and biting down, marking her, claiming her as his against the heated stares of the aroused males she left in her wake. The beast inside him growled possessively, fingers sliding over her ribs to cup a breast firmly, a pebbled nipple pressing into his palm as he purposely pressed his hook against her molten centre, teasing her as only he knew she loved. Her soft groan was a visceral torture, his already swollen cock growing impossibly harder as she ground her warm flesh into him without mercy. 

“You're killing me here, princess.”

His voice was like gravel, his accent thick and heavy as each word escaped his tight throat. His hand closed almost painfully around her breast, his hook nipped at the soft flesh of her thigh, drawing a thin line of blood that neither noticed. She slowly stretched her body against his, her hands passing over her ribs, her breasts, her throat, to reach behind her and come together at the back of his neck, twisting her head so that she could meet his lips with a heated kiss. Only when they broke free for air, dragging much needed oxygen into gasping, starving lungs, did she pull him down lower, her lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, forcing a long tremor to course down his spine.

“Your discomfort is a cross I'm more than willing to bear.”

The grin that crossed her face was full of teasing and mischief as she twisted out of his grasp, her fingers slipping down to blatantly wrap around his painfully hard, denim caged cock, sending jarring jolts of heat and need through every cell in his body. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips, her green eyes danced with a sinful combination of lust and mirth, and the sway of her hips as she left him on the dance floor were a silent invite to chase her as she ran.

He caught her just outside the entrance to the warehouse, hook and hand spinning her in place, his lips claiming hers harshly as her back met the cold wall behind her with a resounding thump. His blue eyes had gone black with lust, his pupils blown wide by an animalistic need she'd never seen him display in all the time they'd danced their way together. Every conceivable part of her welcomed him as he tore away the thin thong that had protected her modesty, driving two thick fingers into her dripping core without pause, thumb circling and pressing her clit without mercy. Every once dominant nerve she had in her body screamed at her to submit to him and him alone as he fought the zipper on his jeans until his swollen, aching need was freed from its painful confines, finding home between her thighs, head slipping through her warm, wet flesh. Every semi-lucid synapse in his brain listened to and understood why he'd been summoned to her that night, what his woman needed, what she wanted even if she'd not been able to put it in words; so it was without words that he found home inside her body in one thick, long thrust that had her screaming instantly in his arms.

Perhaps when they managed to stumble home that night he'd rekindle the lingering need she'd be left with after she'd come around him. Perhaps he'd kiss her deeply, strip her slowly, enter her gently, and move purposely until they came apart in each others arms in quiet tenderness. There would be no need for her to tease him with her scandalous modern clothing. They would not find themselves moving to a song that had no purpose beyond its tribal rhythm. They'd not need technology to communicate when their bodies spoke endless stories as they joined together. They'd cater to the young, good hearted lieutenant in him that still believed in romance and making love.

But for now she'd taunted out his inner pirate; if his girl wanted him to fuck her against a warehouse wall twenty feet from the docks, hidden from view only by the grace of a moonless night, he wasn't going to complain. Not with her wrapped so tightly around his flesh that he could feel both their hearts beat in the clench of her hot, gripping walls. Not while he drove into her with such force that when she came apart with a sudden cry, her nails dug in and drew blood from his shoulders. Not when she'd milked his orgasm from him so hard that he had to lean into her to keep them standing when the world greyed out of existence. 

Somehow she managed to cater to both his sides evenly, the man and the beast, without even trying. He'd never be able to grow complacent in life with his princess, he'd never have a chance to get bored. She had a funny way of surprising him just when he thought he knew what to expect next. 

He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

~~~Fin~~~ 

Much like magic all muses come with a price. My muse's price is that little box down below. Please don't make her chase you for payment. It's such a bloody awful waste of her time.


End file.
